The Boyfriend
by Ansy Pansy aka Panz
Summary: Pseudo-canon. Sometime pre-series. Martha has a new boyfriend. No it's not Clive. Yes you should read this whether you're a C&M shipper or not! 3 chapters (all written).
1. Chapter 1

**The Boyfriend**

* * *

 **Summary: Pseudo-canon. Sometime pre-series. Martha has a new boyfriend. No it's not Clive. Yes you should read this whether you're a C &M shipper or not! **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Silk.**

* * *

A.N. I felt inspired to prove that I can write Martha with a love interest who is not Clive. Obviously this is still a C&M story but one about their friendship…mostly. It's pretty canon I think. We'll call it Anna-canon just in case! We have almost 20 years of backstory to write. I hope you enjoy my contribution! It's over 9.5k in total and I'm splitting it into three rather awkwardly different sized chapters!

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'So what's he like?' Clive asked, faux casual.

'Who?' Martha responded absently, not looking up from the new brief she was absorbed in.

'Your new squeeze, obviously!'

'Squeeze Clive?' She said, attention successfully pulled from her notes, just as he'd intended when he'd chosen the word. 'Honestly!'

'What would you prefer? Boyfriend? Lover?!' He rolled the r on the last word and she rolled her eyes at him.

'Come off it.'

He was delighted to see a faint blush creeping up her neck. 'Not graduated to the status of lovers yet?' he teased, partly just to wind her up, partly because a tiny bit of him was interested. Martha Costello didn't have that much of a sex life as far as he could tell and while sharing an office wasn't the surest way of knowing, it did give a number of clues which Clive was adept and experienced enough at picking up on. Flurried late arrivals in chambers, smudged lipstick where usually the pillar box red was perfect, an extra application before she left for the day, a certain look in her eyes and sometimes just something subtly different about the way she was, particularly with him. Mellower perhaps, brushing off his attempts at flirting with more ease than usual, happier to laugh and indulge him simply because they were both secure in the knowledge it would never happen. Martha Costello wasn't a cheat, and certainly not with Clive Reader. Not that their relationship was likely to develop beyond the volatile friendship they'd managed to build over the intervening years since becoming first pupils and then tenants together. She didn't need someone else in the picture to keep him safely at arm's length, that much was obvious, but perhaps she thought it made a difference to him. He hated that she thought him that sexist, that he would consider another man the reason to keep his distance rather than her own regular rebuffs. To counterbalance this he made sure to flirt as consistently and shamelessly when she was in a relationship as when she was out of one. If anything, Martha being attached made him fly closer to the wind, pushing that little bit harder, teasing, just because he had the opportunity. She had plenty of chance with him if she'd wanted to tease him back, little though she used the wealth of inspiration his extra curricular activities afforded her.

No, Martha Costello's sex life was a mystery compared to his, seen in rare glimpses every now and then, when she dragged herself away from work long enough and let her guard down. He was pretty sure he wasn't alone in chambers in wondering about it, or even the Bar at large. She had a reputation, for her boldness, for her brilliance, and it gained her plenty of admirers, much as his confidence, charm and cutting cross examination did for him. She didn't take advantage of it the way he did though. Certainly no one would ever call her a player! She was more likely to be followed by whispers of frigid which he found particularly distasteful as well as ridiculous. Anyone who thought Martha Costello was cold and sexless was clearly emotionally stunted themselves. She was the most passionate person he knew. Probably a fiend in bed when she wanted to be too, though he had nothing to base that on other than a finely tuned sexual radar and his own inadvertent fantasies. He wasn't a perv, honest; he didn't make it a habit of imagining his colleagues in less than professional situations but there had been that time they were both three sheets to the wind and she'd said something that sent his brain into overdrive and that same alcohol soaked brain had never forgotten it.

'Clive!' Martha's sharp tone brought him back to reality. She was eyeing him with a frown. 'You can't comment on my sex life and then go off in another world, it's bloody creepy to be honest...'

Clive felt his own face start to flush and desperately tamped it down. 'No, no,' he said quickly. 'It just made me think I should call Heather back, that was all. Nothing untoward.'

'Really. Cause your relations with Heather are oh so perfectly innocent?'

Clive winked at her. 'You know me, I don't kiss and tell.'

She had to give him that; for all he was a player and never hid his escapades and encounters in the slightest, he didn't talk about them loudly across chambers or anywhere else. While gossip might filter out of the men's robing room, it didn't come from him, at least nothing more than an oblique comment or two, an allegedly sheepish shrug or well timed wink.

'Which one is Heather again?' she asked, not really interested in the slightest but enthusiastic enough about the topic's ability to shift the focus from her own relationship to keep the conversation going.

'Tall, blonde, great arse.'

'Because now I know exactly who you mean.' Martha said sarcastically. Clive Reader, while not particularly discriminating when it came to women, as long as they were of above average intelligence and attractiveness, did have a recognisable type. The description of Heather applied to probably fifty percent of the women she knew he'd slept with recently and probably a good proportion of those she didn't know about.

'Works for Hiscox.'

'Not a lawyer then?'

'She is, in house though.'

'Ah.'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

'Didn't think you were one to judge Marth.'

'I'm not.'

'Mmhmm,' he challenged but she didn't rise to it.

'So what's her title then?' she asked.

'What? At work?'

She laughed a little at him then. 'No, in, uh, your life... Have you...graduated to the status of lovers yet?!' she teased.

'Mocking me Martha?!'

'Always.'

He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, not perturbed in the slightest. 'You know me, lovers is where I start.'

'Lovely.'

'Oh it is.'

'Doesn't that ever…?' She hesitated, wondering why she was now the one pushing the boundaries of this frankly far too personal conversation.

Clive waited, one wrong word, the shrill of the telephone, footsteps from outside the office, anything at all really could send her back to her brief, shutting the door on the moment they were having, far closer to friends than colleagues right now, closer than they usually got without alcohol's emotional lubricant.

'Isn't it, lacking?'

Clive paused too, weighing up the question. 'Sometimes,' he admitted. 'Depends if it matters.'

'And with Heather?'

'There isn't a lot of conversation. And it's not serious, so it doesn't really matter. We get on well enough.'

'Well enough?! That's miserable Clive.'

'The sex certainly isn't.'

She shook her head at him. 'You're incorrigible.'

He grinned, a little sheepishly, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Martha always cut right through his bullshit and it disconcerted him sometimes. 'Anyway,' he said, 'I thought we were talking about you and Rob.'

'Robert.' Martha corrected automatically.

'Robert,' Clive amended, drawing out the name ridiculously. 'And how serious are things with young Robert?'

'None of your business.'

'Come on Marth, I just opened up about Heather.'

'You told me she had a great arse and the sex was good! I hardly call that a heartfelt exchange!'

There was something about the way she was looking at him, the challenge and teasing note in her words and voice that made the thoughts he generally avoided thinking about, and certainly never voiced, spill out his mouth unwarranted.

'Well…Heather's great, really. She's smart and beautiful…' he hesitated.

'Why do I feel like there's a but coming? There's always a but with you isn't there Clive?!'

'She had a broken engagement not that long ago and I'm pretty sure she's convinced they're going to get back together,' he said and Martha felt a little guilty for her harsh words. For all he might have a pretty regular stream of female companions it didn't necessarily follow that the rotating door was solely down to him.

'She's using you then?' she asked.

'It's fine. It's not as though I'm really offering her an alternative.'

'No,' Martha agreed, eyes piercing, even from across the room, as she studied his face.

'So, fair's fair, how how are things with you two?'

'Why do you want to know?'

Clive shrugged. 'Personal curiosity, professional concern.'

She narrowed her eyes at that. 'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'We are co-defending next week, just want to make sure…'

'Don't you dare finish that sentence Clive Reader!' Martha's voice was ice cold. 'I don't question your abilities in court based on your sex life! I don't voice concerns that you might be lusting after Heather's arse or lamenting her departure when we're supposed to be working and I'd appreciate it if you could grant me the same respect.'

'Sorry,' he said quickly, and he was. 'I didn't mean... I mean, I didn't intend.. That was wrong of me to say. You know I'm not a misogynist Martha.'

'I do. But sometimes you say things without thinking and they sound fucking awful to be frank Clive.'

'I'm sorry.'

She nodded and there was a stiff moment of silence. Martha's eyes slid back to her brief but she offered an olive branch. 'For the record, Robert and I are fine.'

'Great,' Clive said carefully, before diving back into the conversation. 'You still haven't told me what he's like you know.'

Martha sighed, though more with amusement than frustration. 'You're like a dog with a bone, you know that Clive?'

'I do have it on good authority that my puppy dog eyes are second to none,' he quipped.

'Some people are just easily susceptible. I've never had a problem with them personally.'

'You, Martha Costello, are the one woman immune to my charms,' he said dramatically and she laughed.

'Or the one woman you're not stupid enough to try it on?'

'I'm not sure you can claim that. I'm sure I've tried at some point.'

'Perhaps not hard enough if your success rate is anything to go by,' she teased before the words really registered.

Their eyes were caught on each other's across the office. They had moments like this sometimes, when one or other of them would say something that could be construed as something else entirely, something too close to the thing they avoided, too much like something that meant something. They looked at each other for a beat, then another, blue eyes on blue, unguarded, uncertain, anxious but unafraid. Acknowledging the moment but not speaking of it. Wondering if one day one of them would break the silence with something other than an awkward laugh, a retraction or redirection of the conversation.

'I mean,' she said at last, it felt like ages but had probably only been a few seconds. 'If the Clive Reader charm really is all that.'

'I guess we'll never know,' he said, and his voice sounded worryingly disappointed to his own ears and he quickly pressed on, hoping she couldn't hear it. 'But that still doesn't tell me what he's like. Everything I'm not I presume?'

Martha paused, pen tapping on her lip. 'Actually, you're more alike than I give you credit for really.'

Clive was disconcerted by the response, fiddling with the ribbon he'd taken off his own new brief that morning. 'How do you mean?'

'It's not so much looks. He's not my usual type anyway,' Martha mused. Clive didn't really think she had a type, not one he had been able to ascertain from the few men he'd met or seen her with over the years. 'It's more, in attitude, no, personality. Essentials maybe, I don't know.'

She was rambling a little and Clive couldn't help loving it when she got flustered, couldn't resist poking at her discomfort.

'Essentials huh?' he asked, confident again, eyebrows waggling.

'Don't make me take back the compliment,' she said warningly but her tone was light. 'He's certainly not as cocky as you…'

'Who is?' Clive joked, spreading his hands.

Martha simply smiled at him, knowing as well as he did that the cockiness was really just a front, borne out of lingering memories of teenage insecurity rather than outright confidence, assured as he might be about his performance in court and prowess in the bedroom.

'He's intelligent, thoughtful, driven… You're very different too, don't get me wrong, but his background isn't that dissimilar.'

'Really?'

'Yes Clive, that's why I said it.'

'I just didn't peg you as someone who…'

'Don't peg me!'

'I mean…'

'What, Clive? Choose your words very carefully!

'Just…you're always quite scathing about my background.'

'I don't discriminate if that's what you mean.'

'I know you don't Marth. That just doesn't seem like your type.'

'You can't decide what my type is based on me teasing you about going to boarding school.'

Clive felt, privately, that there was a bit more of an edge to it than teasing really conveyed but decided it was better to let it go. 'Fine. So what did you mean by similar?'

'He didn't go to Harrow, but you know; nice house, suburbs, two parents who stayed together, grammar school, Downing…'

'Hmm, Cambridge boy.

'Don't start with the Oxbridge debate, please.'

'Not saying a word,' Clive said, though he was obviously thinking it. Oxbridge rivalry didn't appear to dim with the passage of time. 'What does he do anyway, young Rob?'

'He's a lecturer. King's.'

'An academic huh?'

'Yeah.'

Clive considered a number of scathing comments about perpetual students before settling on, 'Not a real job, is it?'

'Don't do that Clive.'

'What?'

'Say something rude just because. You don't know him, you haven't met him…'

'And why is that? Why does he never come by chambers?'

'Why would he? I think it's awkward when people pick each other up from work like schoolchildren.'

Clive fidgeted, thinking of the times ex girlfriends had loitered in chambers, some making stilted conversation with Martha while others draped themselves over his desk, ignoring her completely and entreating him to finish up faster so they could leave. Heather had done it only last week, if not quite as ostentatiously as some.

'Is he hideously ugly?'

'No!'

'Grossly disfigured? Questionably dressed?'

'No, no,' she gasped, properly laughing now. 'He's a perfectly normal bloke. Average height, regular build, generally handsome…'

'Oh,' Clive said in mock disgust. 'That's disappointing!'

'God knows what you and Billy would say to him if he did turn up. But I suppose you wouldn't consider that an acceptable factor in discouraging me.'

'Of course not.'

'The only one I'd really dare introduce him to is Alan and yet why would I? That would be like some weird and unnecessary parental introduction.'

'Have you met his?'

'Why?'

'Just wondered.'

'Yes.'

'What're they like?'

'Old. A lot older. Fine. Nice. They were in town for something, we only saw them briefly. He met them for lunch, I was in court for most of it.'

'How did that go down?'

'I didn't ask. Not much I could do about it was there?'

'No. But you liked them?'

'They're quite… I don't know how to say this politely really. They're quite…conservative.'

'I'm not sure that's considered an insult in general society Marth.'

'Not amongst your friends, no.'

'Big C or little c?'

'Er, little but but big too I expect.'

'Oh my god Marth, are you dating a Tory? I never thought I'd see the day!'

'No, Clive. Robert is suitably liberal.'

'Not a socialist though?'

'No. But Liberal enough anyway.'

'Do his parents know?'

'What?'

'That you're a raging tomato.'

'Sometimes your slang is very strange Clive,' she said, silently chalking it up to his boarding school education. 'I don't think he will have mentioned it.'

'And what about your mum?'

'Hasn't met him, no.'

'Why not?'

'Why does it matter?'

'Just having a conversation Marth, no need to get shirty!'

Martha sighed. 'She's in Bolton for a start.'

'So? No nice little trip up North? Cosy weekend away?'

'When,' she began archly, 'have I ever been the type to go away for the weekend?'

'Good point. So that's the only reason?'

Martha looked uncomfortable but didn't shy away from his continued questioning. 'Not really. But I've never had that kind of relationship with my mother. We're not like that. Talking about boys, me bringing them home so she can vet them, she didn't do it when I was sixteen, never mind thirty-something.'

'You forget I know exactly how old you are Marth. I take it this means Rob doesn't?'

'Robert. And no. It's never come up.'

'Never come up? Right,' he said, clearly unconvinced. A thought suddenly occurred. 'He's younger, isn't he Marth? You've got yourself a toy boy! Are you being a cougar Martha Costello?!'

'If you know exactly how old I am Clive Reader,' she said slowly, stressing all three syllables of his name. 'You know exactly why I feel I'm too young to be considered a cougar and frankly I'm insulted by the insinuation.'

'Fine. You're not a cougar. But is he a toy boy? Come on!'

He's not a toy boy Clive,' Martha said, wincing at the word. 'He's barely younger than you.'

'Hmm. Interesting.'

'What is?'

'Nothing.'

Martha huffed. 'This conversation is not getting either of us much work done.'

'I thought that was the exact reason we were having it. What's your brief like?'

'Bloody awful. Yours?'

'Dull. Want to slack off early, go to the Crown?'

'Can't.'

'Meeting Rob?'

'You know his name is Robert!'

'But it's fun to see you get annoyed on his behalf when he's not even here. Tell him to meet us there.'

'I don't know Clive, what did I just say about not having him meet you and Billy?'

'I'm not going to do anything.'

'Fine. But I don't want some pissing contest.'

'No pissing here Marth. You really think he's threatened by me?'

'No I don't think he's threatened by you,' she said tiredly, adding under her breath, 'He doesn't really know about you.'

'What?'

'He knows you exist Clive.'

'But just as a colleague?'

'Yeah.'

'Okay.'

'I know we're…past that point, it's just hard to explain sometimes, you know. The job we do, the work we do, the way we do it. The hours, the closeness with colleagues who understand. I've had it, mess things up before.'

'And you don't want it to this time. He means a lot to you then?'

'He…could do.'

'So tell him the truth. Really Marth there's a reason they say honesty is the best policy.'

'And you follow that do you? With all your…'

'It's not the same Marth, I'm not trying to have a real relationship with any of them, not really, or at least very rarely.' He took a breath. 'I'm going to find it hard pretending to anything other than what we are, Martha, around you. We've got a shorthand, an understanding, a friendship. I can't just turn it off, and, and then there's…'

'What?'

He shook his head but Martha knew what he meant.

'I know.'

It was the way they flirted, because even she flirted back sometimes so it wasn't just on him. The way they knew each other, comfortable, familiar in a way that colleagues weren't. It was the way they talked, something natural and easy between them, a shared vernacular. The way they fought too, sometimes; exaggerated, incisive, tempers flaring perhaps quicker than really made sense. Passionate, alight with something that buzzed and burned between them; chemistry, not that either of them would ever say it.

'We're just close, Marth, and there's nothing wrong with that.'

'Maybe there is.'

'I don't know. We've never crossed any kind of line. There's never been anything…nothing actually, tangible.'

'I don't mean…'

'What do you want me to do? Back off? I'm not doing anything that would step on his toes. Do you want me to…stop, with the jokes, the flirting? Or at least try to?'

'I know. And no. I don't want you to change Clive. I don't want us to change. It's just… Remember that time…that guy…'

Clive knew the one she meant. 'Stuart?'

'Yeah.'

'It's not the same. The guy was a knob, Marth. It's not as though you were choosing to talk to me over him, just sometimes, because of what we do, I'm going to understand you better. He couldn't deal with that. Why not give Rob the benefit of the doubt?'

'Maybe,' she said, sighing over the word.

'If you want to, that is.'

'I don't know. We're fine how things are. Balancing on the edge of being serious but not really being. It's comfortable as it is. I'd rather not rock the boat.'

'You know I get that. How often do I do serious? I'm the last person to push you into that, it's just usually that's more your style.'

'I guess so.'

'Come on, invite him to the pub and I'll scope him out.'

'I don't need you to…' she began.

'I know,' he said quickly. 'But think about it on the way? I'm gasping for a drink!'


	2. Chapter 2

**The Boyfriend**

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 **Summary: Pseudo-canon. Sometime pre-series. Martha has a new boyfriend. No it's not Clive. Yes you should read this whether you're a C &M shipper or not! **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Silk.**

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A.N. Thanks for the love on the first chapter! This is a bit of a slim chapter but it just worked out that way. I don't really get into much Martha and Rob as you'll see. I'm pretty confident none of you are going to be terribly disappointed!

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' _I know,' he said quickly. 'But think about it on the way? I'm gasping for a drink!'_

And that's how she came to find herself in the Crown, Clive across the table.

'Hi,' Robert said as he joined them.

If Clive was studying him he kept it very subtle, introducing himself with a brief shake of the hand before excusing himself to the bar, taking their orders with him.

'So that's Clive,' Robert said, sliding into the booth beside her and planting a kiss on her cheek, which is all she offered in light of their rather public surroundings.

'Yeah,' she said, not sure what the correct response was to that really. 'How was your day?'

'Good.'

They languished in intermittent silence broken only by a little more small talk about their respective afternoons and vague plans for the weekend, Rob's hand seeking hers under the table top and Martha feeling that little bit self-conscious, awkward and out of place, which was weird when this was one of her usual haunts. It was just she didn't like mixing the two worlds, the two parts of herself and this felt like playing with fire.

Clive glanced across from the bar and could see it, the tangible awkwardness, the stiffness in her posture, the glances at her colleagues and contemporaries. He leaned in towards the barman again and changed his order.

The couple were chatting when he came back over, depositing Martha's red wine and Rob's pint on the table.

'Where's yours?' she asked.

'Change of plan,' he said. 'Heather's having a crisis. Figured I'd go, ah, loiter at her work for once.'

Martha gave him a smile that said many things. He wasn't quite sure whether she could tell he was lying or not but he knew she appreciated the gesture.

'It was nice to meet you,' he said to Rob, making sure not to use his name, either full or shortened. 'Sorry I have to head off.'

'No worries,' said the younger man. 'Thanks for the pint. I owe you one sometime.'

Clive nodded, shrugging into his overcoat. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' he said to Martha and took his leave.

She was right. It was awkward. The meeting he had pressed so hard for felt unnecessary, indulging his curiosity for no good reason. He couldn't really envision a time when he would purposefully get into a situation where Rob could return the round. He usually dated if not within the Bar then at least the wider circle of professionals that they met. That had its own challenges but going outside of that was different, even more complicated and he didn't envy Martha's task in knitting together two entirely different lives. He and Heather had plenty in common and yet they struggled beyond the bedroom. The thought made him pull out his phone to call her; he may as well make part of his lie a truth by seeing her this evening.

In contrast to the two occupants of the front office, Billy was in fine spirits the following morning. 'Mr Reader, Sir!' he bellowed, striding his way into their office with a flourish punctuated by the bang of the door handle as it hit the wall and made them both wince. 'I hear you had the pleasure of meeting Miss Costello's, erm, paramour last night?'

'Ah…,' Clive said, glancing across at Martha who was at her desk, head down but clearly listening. 'Meeting would be a bit of an exaggeration Billy. We merely crossed paths in the Crown.'

'Oh. I was hoping for a little more information than that. What did he seem like?'

'I'm right here you two!' Martha cut in. 'Much as I'm trying to ignore you.'

'Yes Miss, but you won't tell me anything. Mr Reader has no such qualms.'

'He…seemed to be a pleasant enough chap,' Clive said diplomatically.

'Teacher I heard?'

'Academic. University lecturer.'

'Hmm,' Billy said decisively, but whether that was a positive or negative remark wasn't clear.

'Any particular reason you're asking about Robert, Billy?' Marth asked sharply. Someone must have reported their meeting in the Crown to the Senior Clerk and she resolved to never take a date to the chambers' local again.

'I'm just checking on the wellbeing of my flock Miss.'

'And yet the only relationship in question is mine at present. That's sexist Billy. Why don't you ask Clive about Heather whatsherface?'

Billy knew when she had him and so he didn't argue, turning back to Clive asking, 'And how is the lovely Heather, Mr Reader?'

'Probably reuniting with her fiancé as we speak.'

'What?' Martha couldn't help the exclamation.

'Trouble in paradise, Sir?'

'Not sure there was really paradise to begin with Billy, but not unexpected in the slightest.'

'Well you're in luck, Sir, nothing like hard work as the balm for a broken heart,' he said, adding another brief to the pile of folders on Clive's desk. 'I think you'll find this one suitably diverting.'

'Thanks Billy, I can always rely on you to cheer me up.'

'You're the best there is, Sir, can't have you drowning your sorrows when you could be heading to Holloway Mags this afternoon. Feel free to return yesterday's brief.'

Clive grinned. 'Knew there was a reason you're my favourite Senior Clerk!'

'Your only Senior Clerk,' Billy pointed out but he was laughing as he moved for the door. 'Miss,' he said by way of farewell and then he was gone, door banging shut behind him.

'You broke up with Heather last night?'

'Yeah.'

'Why didn't you say something?'

'What, Marth? I would have told you when it came up. I wasn't going to come in this morning and announce it to chambers at large was I?'

'Well no, but…I feel like I put my foot in it, with Billy, made you say it.'

'I could have lied easily enough Marth. Don't stress about it.'

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, yeah.'

'I suppose it wasn't that serious was it?' The question could have come across blunt and uncaring from anyone else but he knew she was checking whether he really was okay.

'No, no. I'll leave that to you I think.'

'Did she…'

'We don't have to do this Marth, get into it.'

'I asked. If you want to tell someone then tell me but if you don't, you don't have to talk about it.'

'We were fine, but, I don't know. I knew she wasn't happy, not really. She got a text, last night, from her ex. She didn't reply but she kept looking at it and eventually I just said she should do what she wanted, what would make her happy.'

'That's actually really sweet Clive.'

Clive gave a silent laugh, little more than an exhale. 'I knew what would happen and I did it anyway. I'm not usually that selfless.'

'Maybe you don't give yourself enough credit.'

Clive looked awkward and clumsily changed the subject. 'Sorry about leaving last night, I hope it didn't come across as rude.'

'No, not at all. I appreciated it actually.'

'How was the rest of your night?'

'Fine.'

'Fine?' Clive queried, immediately picking up on the four letter red flag. 'Did something happen?'

She wasn't going to tell him. Wasn't going to dump her relationship woes on him when he was in the immediate aftermath of a break up but Clive had other ideas.

'Not really,' was her noncommittal response. 'Let's just say neither of us had that great an evening.'

'I won't mock if you want to tell me,' Clive said and he seemed so earnest that she considered it for a moment. 'Frankly it might make me feel a bit better about my romantic life now being a shambles!'

Somehow she doubted that it would stay that way much beyond this evening, or at least the weekend, but she relented. 'My evening didn't take as dramatic a turn as yours but we had a bit of a minor disagreement on the way home.'

'What about?'

'I'm not even sure how it started now, just about whose place we were going back to, what we were going to have for dinner, something like that. We were probably just hungry but it kind of snowballed. Turned out to really be about the fact I haven't invited him to the Christmas party!'

'The Christmas party?!'

'Yes. I know. Ridiculous isn't it? Turns out Kate introduced herself while I was at the bar, mentioned seeing him again there.'

'Bloody Kate.' Clive was quick to sympathise. He and the relatively new junior were no longer on speaking terms following the aftermath of a certain death row story.

'You're the one who slept with her,' Martha pointed out.

'Are you going to hold that against me forever?' Clive said. 'It was a lapse in judgement.'

'Don't whinge, Clive, it doesn't suit you.'

He pouted instead and Martha barely suppressed an eye roll.

'So anyway, I'm blaming Kate for my rubbish evening.'

'Seems like a sound judgement to me. Think it'll blow over or is young Rob on the out?'

'It wasn't that bad,' Martha said quickly. 'We'll see if he brings it up again. If he apologises.'

'You're not going to then?'

'I didn't do anything!' Martha snapped. 'He's the one overreacting…'

Her complaint was interrupted by Clive's laughter.

'What?' she asked sulkily.

'I wasn't expecting you to take me seriously. You may as well break up now if he's waiting on you!'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'When was the last time you apologised?'

'When was the last time I did something requiring an apology?'

'Don't ask me,' Clive said. 'We operate on the "ignore it until one of us forgets why we were mad in the first place" principle.'

It was true. Whenever they rowed, really rowed, there never appeared to be any need for explanations or apologies afterwards; they cooled off and carried on as normal until the next time something sparked between them. Perhaps it was unorthodox, perhaps it was unhealthy but it worked.

'I much prefer that policy,' Martha muttered and changed the subject. 'When was your boring brief due to go to trial?'

'The one I'm returning?'

'Yeah.'

'Ah, tomorrow.'

'Fancy sending it my way?'

'You don't want it Marth, trust me.'

'I want an excuse to avoid Robert tonight if I want to and this,' she indicated the open brief on her desk, 'doesn't start for another three weeks. I need something short to tide me over until our fraud.'

'Fine by me,' Clive said, shuffling the file out of his pile. 'But don't say I didn't warn you!'

'Someone's either feeling amorous or in the doghouse,' Billy observed a few hours later as he opened the door of the office for Jake who was carrying a modest but conspicuously wrapped bouquet or plant of some kind.

Martha looked up and felt her insides squirm. Nice as it was to receive flowers, their arrival at work felt like an invasion of the personal into the professional and rather embarrassing.

'For you, Miss,' Jake said, unnecessarily, since she was the only one in the office and while Clive had been sent many things including a rather nice hamper one Christmas, a decent showing of Valentine's cards each year and even a pair of underwear, flowers were yet to feature.

Jake set his burden on the corner of her desk and nervously backed away as though it might topple off if he as much as breathed too hard in the vicinity.

'Thanks Jake.'

'They're not from me,' he said quickly. 'Courier dropped them off. There's a card.'

'Yes. Thank you for bringing them in though Jake.'

'Of course, Miss,' he said, flushing, and Billy waved him out.

'Trouble in paradise for you too, Miss? And so soon?'

'Why do you say that?' she asked, reaching for the bow on the cellophane and tugging until a glazed white planter and a cluster of hyacinths were revealed.

'Hyacinths, Miss. Blue and purple like that mean sincerity and a request for forgiveness.'

'How do you know that?' Martha asked, struck by Billy's strange and sudden knowledge of the meanings of flowers.

'Never underestimate what I know, Miss. Should I add young Robert to the Christmas party table plan?'

'Out, Billy!'

'Going Miss, going,' Billy said, pulling the door shut with an exaggerated bow.

She eyed the flowers speculatively, better able to appreciate the gesture without being self-conscious now she was alone. The blooms were bright and the scent, intense from being captured in cellophane, was heady. She wondered how he'd found ones that bloomed so early. Remembering Jake's words about a card, she searched the wrapping and detached a small white square. The gesture, awkward as she had felt about it at first, combined with Billy's unexpected explanation of what the flowers meant, had her frustrated feelings towards Robert thawing considerably. She hoped the note wouldn't undo the good work with triteness or attempted justification.

She was pleasantly surprised.

 _Martha,_ he had written, himself, she noted, recognising the hand and thinking affectionately how that meant he had made a trip to the florist in person. _Last night felt like the first time we really clashed and while I don't imagine that it will be the last, I hope it's not something we do often. I won't offer any excuses, just an apology. I'm sorry. Robert._

If Clive noticed the flowers when he got back from court he didn't comment. He continued to call Robert 'Rob' whenever he was mentioned but never instigated another conversation specifically about him. The weeks passed into months and Robert became a fixture, not really noteworthy or requiring comment any more. The speculation in chambers stopped after Robert picked her up one day, outside of course but the clerks had been watching from the window. He was just a fact of life, background, not really impinging on the day to day, at least not for him. Clive didn't know whether she'd told Rob, in the end, about their friendship, but the topic didn't come up again. After Heather came and went, back to the arms of her indecisive fiancé just as he'd predicted, he'd felt strangely sensitive about Martha's relationship. It wasn't usual for her to have someone when he didn't but he didn't like the idea of being jealous, either of her attached status or of Rob. He didn't stay single for long, of course, or rather his bed didn't stay empty for long, shall we say, and he buried the strange feeling until it was mostly forgotten. Nothing had really changed, not in their relationship anyway. They shared their office, life and the occasional drink, he flirted with mixed success and she kept his ego in check with varying levels of sarcasm, work was busy and life went on.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Boyfriend**

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 **Summary: Pseudo-canon. Sometime pre-series. Martha has a new boyfriend. No it's not Clive. Yes you should read this whether you're a C &M shipper or not! **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Silk.**

* * *

A.N. Back to a proper big chapter. This is the last one in this not-so-little excerpt of their possible pre-series life, I hope you enjoy it.

Oh and yes there are 3 chapters but I already denoted the story as complete so that you'd know the writing of it was finished and wouldn't be left hanging for months like with Conversations!

* * *

It wasn't for a fair few weeks after the event that he noticed she hadn't left the office early in a while, that there was no fresh application of lipstick on an evening. He thought back to the last time she'd arrived flushed and flustered and couldn't pinpoint a recent memory, noticing suddenly that she'd snapped the last time he'd flirted. He couldn't even remember what he'd said now but it had clearly hit a nerve. All these things added up to one conclusion but not one he could voice, not without risking her wrath. Either things were on the outs with Rob or it was already done. Him commenting on it wouldn't do any good. He remembered a series of frustrated phone calls one evening when she'd been late in chambers and realised there had been a few such nights lately.

He came in from court late one afternoon, a few days after he'd drawn the conclusion from his observations. Martha was at her desk looking distinctly uninspired and as tired as he felt.

'Pub?'

Martha stretched and even considering her bored face as she'd poured over the brief, acquiesced quicker than he'd expected.

'Yeah,' she said, dropping her pen on the pile of pages. 'I could well do with a drink.'

They settled themselves in a corner of the George. It was busy but they snagged the last table, Martha fighting her way to the bar while Clive went on the hunt for a spare stool. The search was unsuccessful and they ended up squashed into the booth on one side of the table, much as she had been with Robert that day all those months ago in the Crown, the only time he and Clive had met.

Martha reappeared with a bottle and two glasses and told him she'd opened a tab. Clive smiled. She was always good value when she was properly drinking and it had been a while since they'd really spent any time together outside the four walls of their office.

'Long day?' he queried.

'Long month,' she said, upending a good long slug of red into each of their glasses.

They talked about work until the bottle was two thirds empty and it wasn't until the pub cleared out with the evening exodus and their second bottle was getting low that she even hinted at anything personal.

'You've probably guessed that Robert's gone,' she said suddenly, crossly, as if he'd said something.

'Ah, I did wonder,' he admitted.

'Well I appreciate you not saying anything.'

'What do you mean Marth? You think I would crow over the end of a relationship that clearly mattered to you?'

'You've done it before,' she observed.

'Yeah, well, that was more congratulating your belated good judgement and those guys were jerks,' he said uncomfortably, clearly feeling bad about it but not wholly unjustified. 'Do I have to add him to the list?'

'No, not really. Wasn't his fault, wasn't either of our faults. Just life, this job. It's hard to understand I guess, or I am. Maybe the rest of you don't have this problem. Don't get as invested, don't get as attached.'

'It's part of what makes you great Marth.'

'It's also my biggest weakness. Sometimes it hurts me, in the courtroom, and at home.'

'If he can't understand who you are…'

'You don't need to tell me that. I'm not wrong, for being who I am, the way I am. But I know I'm not the easiest person…'

'Marth, you shouldn't have to change, you know that as well as I do. If he made you question that…'

'He didn't. Not really. But that's still why we broke up. Ugh. It sounds so teenage. He wanted more than I can give and he wasn't wrong, for that. And I…didn't want to give it.'

'And you're not wrong for that either.'

'I know, it's just, it's odd, isn't it? Neither of us in the wrong.'

'It's hard, no matter who you are or what you do, and for us it's even more complicated. It's particularly hard going outside the circle who understand this weird existence we have, jumping from brief to brief, on a case for months on end and then suddenly something new the next day and never knowing where you might end up or how late you'll be. Never necessarily being able to be there when tea's on the table. It's a life choice.'

'I love it though. It's not a choice in that way.'

'I know you do. And it's…' He cleared his throat and tried again. 'How much you love it is a beautiful thing Marth. I mean, it terrifies me sometimes, partly because how can anyone touch you? How can we ever compare? And partly because I worry it's the kind of thing that burns people out.'

'You don't have to worry, Clive, but thank you.'

Clive shrugged.

'Don't do that.'

'What?'

'Dismiss your good advice like it doesn't mean anything. Like your friendship, you being a good friend isn't important. It is important. It means something to me, a lot to me.'

Clive smiled at her over the empty wine bottles. 'Well, yours too Marth.'

There was a comfortable silence, a bubble between them and the rest of the pub.

'Another drink?' he asked after a while even though they really didn't need it.

Martha considered for a moment. 'What I'd really like is fish and chips,' she said suddenly.

'We can do that,' he said. 'Walk along the Embankment.'

'You haven't got anywhere better to be on a Friday night Clive?'

'Not tonight Marth.'

'Alright then.'

'And taking you for fish and chips does prevent you getting completely drunk and crying all over my second favourite suit about the loss of your pet academic.'

'Oh shut up,' she said, batting the nearest shoulder of said suit as she got to her feet. 'For that you can jolly well buy the fish and chips!'

Clive grinned, if it cheered her up, of course he would.

'So what exactly did do for you and Robert in the end?' Clive asked a while later as they wandered by the Thames, eating the last of their battered fish and well salted chips with tiny wooden forks. He didn't want to prod the open wound but Martha was so quiet beside him and he was still curious. While he understood the two of them wanting different things being prohibitive in continuing their relationship, he didn't quite see what had changed. What problem could there be that wasn't obvious at the start of the relationship, or at least sooner than nine or so months in? What had finally made their differences too acute?

'Lots of things. Nothing.'

'Come on Marth.'

'Like I said, we want different things,' she began and he thought that might be it before she sighed and continued. 'But in the end it was, what it always is. Work'

Clive knew where she was coming from. He might make time for a lot more of a social life than she did but it didn't mean this job; the hours, the commitment, the strange moral place you had to inhabit to defend the guilty, had never brought a relationship to a premature ending.

'You know I had that trial, the one before last, the arson and manslaughter?'

'Yeah. Nasty one wasn't it?'

'Yeah it was. Godawful. And it just kept going on and on and…you know me, you know what I'm like. You know I don't, I can't…I can't leave it at the door. Can't leave it behind at the end of a day.'

'Yeah. Once you're in a trial you're in it,' he agreed, gently taking her empty tray and tossing it with his in a nearby bin.

'Yeah. I couldn't…I couldn't not think about it. I had to talk about it just to get it out,' she hesitated, voice thick with suppressed emotion when she spoke again. 'There were kids in that house, Clive.'

'And Rob couldn't hack it?'

'Don't be like that!' she said quickly, almost automatically, as though she had forgotten she didn't have to defend him any more. 'Most people aren't like us, they don't do what we do, don't see the things we see. They don't hear about the things we hear about in trials, they don't see photographs of evidence, of people, dead people. Their lives are different. It's maybe only the police who get it, paramedics, some doctors I suppose, palaeontologists, but even then, a body on a slab is quite different, clean, isn't it? And even crime scene photographs…when you can see what it is, a dead body is just a dead body. And it can be horrific but there's no mystery to it if you can see the stab wounds, but when you're looking at a picture and you can't tell what it is, when you're looking at a picture and you just don't know what it is but you're being told it's a child…' she trailed off, clearly seeing the photographs she could never un-see again in her mind. 'Other people don't deal with that. They don't dwell in those dark places.'

'This is the one where it was the father?'

'Yes. It should have been murder and he should have got life. I've never been glad to lose a trial before.'

Clive knew what that was like but still didn't know quite what to say. Instead he simply walked a little bit closer, letting his shoulder brush against hers. He found the gesture comforting and she didn't shrug or step away which suggested she might feel that way too.

'The whole trial was hard. Hard on me, on Robert, probably on you too. I'm pretty sure I was a bit of a bear the entire time.'

'I'm used to it.'

'Yeah, thank God. Robert though, it was the biggest thing I'd done since we got together, one of the longest too. He didn't…understand.'

'What?'

'Getting up every day and defending that man. How I could.'

'It's your job! What about right to a fair trial and all that?'

'I know. And he understands that on a technical level, theoretically. He's a very bright man but things are black and white to him.'

'But…'

'It had even me questioning myself Clive, so I don't blame him for that.'

'What made you break up then?'

'It was the way I was, during that trial… I didn't go to bed a lot of the time. I couldn't. Partly because I was still working, mostly because I couldn't sleep. I'd just lie there, thinking about those kids, thinking about the 999 call, thinking about those photographs…'

Clive let her talk without interrupting or passing comment, it seemed like something she needed to do, something it seemed she probably hadn't been able to do with Rob.

'The photographs were another thing. I had them all over the kitchen table. He didn't like that. I get it. Who would? But I didn't have much of an appetite anyway. He was worried about that I guess, but I don't, I didn't have time for that kind of…I sound heartless, don't I?'

'No,' Clive said but he wasn't sure if it was just his lawyer's mind that disagreed with her where many others wouldn't.

'I can't function regularly when I'm in a trial, especially one like that. And I certainly can't do normal things, relationship things.'

'I'm amazed he hadn't learnt that by then.'

'Maybe I shielded him from it, maybe we were on our best behaviour for six months, I don't know.'

'Can't really comment on that with any recent data.'

'No I imagine not. Your average is in weeks rather than months isn't it Clive?'

'It is, but it does rather solve all of these problems. No expectations, no hurt feelings.'

'Sounds kind of tempting right about now. I definitely hurt Robert's feelings. But, he wanted me to stay over and what was the point? I wasn't sleeping anyway, I definitely wasn't in any mood for sex! You know I hate staying elsewhere, especially if I've got court.'

'You don't have to explain yourself to me!'

'I know. And I'm not going to change am I? Not now. He shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to. Not unless we want to and the sad thing is I don't. It's not really anyone's fault, just one of those things.'

'Well you had a good run Marth, I'll give you that.'

'Yeah, I suppose so,' she said softly, sadly, before her tone brightened. 'And how many girlfriends did you have, in the interim?'

'Ahh,' Clive said, slightly disconcerted by the change of topic and stalling while he thought. 'That depends on your definition of girlfriend.'

'Okay, women you had relations with then.'

'Not sure I can remember,' he couched, only half lying.

'You were dating Heather when Robert and I got together.'

'Oh god, yeah, Heather! Think she's having a baby now!'

'With the Bank Wanker?'

Clive chuckled, he'd forgotten Martha's christening of Heather's fiancé-cum-husband after the happy couple's wedding picture appeared in the paper.

'Yeah. Well, I presume it's Bank Wanker's baby. It's not mine anyway, if that's what you're asking!'

'I'm pretty sure you're more careful than that or there would be a host of little Clives running around.'

Clive shuddered. 'That image may well be the finest contraceptive there is.'

'Not hankering after continuing the Reader line?'

'Not any time soon at least. But it doesn't seem to be on your bucket list either so I'm not sure you can comment.'

'No. I guess we give silk the kind of priority other people save for marriage and children.'

'Something people like Rob and Heather can't really appreciate.'

'She was in-house at a corporate after all.'

'Snob,' Clive teased. 'I'm sure she gets fabulous maternity benefits!'

Martha ignored him. 'And after Heather?'

'After Heather…there was someone…Sarah? Sandra? It began with an S anyway.'

'You can't remember?'

'Come on Marth. My girlfriend had just got back with her ex fiancé, cut me a little slack.'

'You get plenty of slack Clive.'

'Erm…then…then it was Helen from McCrory and Co.'

'Oh it was,' Martha said, with evident distaste. 'Everyone seemed to think that was quite a good match if I remember rightly.'

'Haha, yeah, except Billy, convinced I was haemorrhaging chambers' secrets.'

'Well…I wouldn't put it past her to be squeezing you for information.'

'I'd forgotten you didn't like her,' Clive said, rejecting a number of inappropriate remarks about the squeezing that had gone on between him and the other barrister.

'I don't dislike her,' Martha said, too quickly to be considered sincere.

'Mmhmm. She did beat you in that assault trial.'

'And I beat her in that murder. Murder trumps assault right?'

'So competitive,' Clive said, his tone teasing but affectionate.'

'So what did happen with her?'

'Chewed me up and spat me out pretty much. She's a lot like a brunette you actually, but without the redeeming features.'

Martha wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. 'And what exactly are my redeeming features Clive?'

He laughed again, playing for time. 'Ha…fantastic arse, actually caring about your clients, perhaps the fact you're my best friend…'

'Sentimental Clive,' she said, nudging him with her elbow. 'And after Helen?'

'I needed a break frankly.'

'And I'm supposed to believe that?'

'Well, there was the secretary of somewhere after that and someone who worked for the Bank of England that I met at somebody's wedding. And then I was in Birmingham, you know that.'

'Hmm, but you were in Birmingham four months, I was there four weeks.'

'There was one, maybe two, I think only one I actually slept with. Couple of nights outs early on…Birmingham CPS are hardcore when it comes to clubbing!'

'I've heard that.'

'Something about Northerners I've heard,' he said, giving her a sideways glance.

'Birmingham is in no way, shape or form Northern!' she spluttered. 'Your geography leaves a lot to be desired.'

Clive laughed.

'Anyway, I'm supposed to believe there wasn't anyone else in that whole time?'

'You saw me at the end of that trial, I didn't have the energy to have sex with anyone.'

Martha had to agree. They'd only overlapped by two weeks but in that fortnight she'd seen Clive four times and he'd looked shattered. She'd only seen Robert twice. The first and last weekends she'd cried off, stating work, the next he'd come up, the other she'd gone back home. It had been exhausting and she'd thought fondly of the times she could just disappear off on a case and not worry about anyone in London until she got back.

'So that's it?'

'That's it.'

'Six or seven in nine, nearly ten months.'

'Yeah well, that's not bad really Marth. Average it out, six weeks each.'

'If you put it that way.'

'And I have actually been single since.'

'Really?'

'Scout's honour.'

'Somehow I can't imagine you as a scout, Clive. You have no discernible survival skills.'

'You wound me but you're right. I was a Beaver for about a year before I went away to school but that was it.'

'Knew it.'

'The single thing is true though.'

'Run out of attractive women at the Bar?'

'Ones who will sleep with me at least, unless you've changed your position?'

Martha laughed, more to cover her awkwardness than anything. 'I'm not going to rebound with you Clive.'

'I'm going to take that as testament to our friendship rather than an insult.'

'Think what you like,' Martha said cheekily and he was glad to see her smiling.

'You got many plans for the weekend?' he asked, resisting the temptation to flirt shamelessly by changing the subject.

'No, and it feels wonderful. No making brunch, no having to watch TV when I'd rather be working, no stupid Sunday walks by the river!'

'We're walking by the river right now.'

'That's different.'

'Why?' he asked.

'Because it's you,' she said, without thinking, and they were back in one of those split second moments, both utterly aware of everything about the person beside them, their scent, the warmth from where their arms were just about touching, the catch of breath at her words.

'Neither of us are very good at doing the normal stuff with people, are we?'

Clive said, and the word 'other' hung in the air even without being spoken. They managed to do a lot of things together that they didn't come naturally with 'other people'. Casual drinks in the pub, walks by the river, breakfast on the go, comforting, confiding. He wondered, briefly, if that was why he never pursued anything more serious with the women he dated, why things never worked out for her. Perhaps she was right, maybe they were too close. Maybe they were each other's worst enemy even as they were best friends. They had almost everything except the sex and that he regularly found elsewhere and she appeared to do fine without for extended periods. There wasn't any need to do better in their personal lives because they had each other, someone who understood, completely, no strings, no pressure.

Martha considered his question in silence but her thoughts were following the same line as his. 'Maybe we just don't try hard enough.'

'Maybe.'

'Maybe we don't try hard enough because _we_ don't have to try.'

He knew what she meant. Them. Him and her.

'Shouldn't it be like that with someone else though? Why does it have to be any harder than this?'

This was the closest they'd ever got to talking about the nothing and the something that was between them, aside from the time back in their office when they'd first discussed Rob.

'I don't know,' Martha said, shying away from the question and rubbing a tired hand across her face.

Clive recognised the gesture as both a sincere expression of exhaustion and an end to the current conversation. 'How about we find you a cab?' he asked, catching her hand when it came back down and tugging her across the road when she nodded in agreement.

As a tall, striking man in a well cut suit, Clive never had any trouble hailing cabs and she could help but be rather jealous. Somehow, 5'7" Northern blondes weren't quite as good at it. Still, at least tonight she didn't have to wander in the increasingly chilly twilight; Clive had almost immediate success and a black cab rumbled to a stop at the kerb beside them.

'Right,' he said, letting go of the hand she'd almost forgotten he was holding, almost but not quite. 'I'd say don't work too hard over the weekend but I know you.'

She smiled at him, reaching up to straighten his tie which was crooked from where the button had been undone once he got out of court. 'Thank you for tonight Clive.'

Remembering her earlier words he resisted the urge to shrug off the thanks.

'Anytime,' he said instead, ducking forwards to press a kiss to her forehead. 'Night Marth.'

'Goodnight Clive.'

He watched the taxi accelerate away before turning to hail his own and certainly not thinking about the feel of her skin against his lips or the way her cold fingers fit into his. Damn, he _really_ needed to get laid!


End file.
